


Christ, I ain't ever going back to thinking straight

by wiintersoldiier



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Hate to Love, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Pining, Pre-smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiintersoldiier/pseuds/wiintersoldiier
Summary: Dan and Phil are Youtubers who meet in 2013, in a way which doesn't favour any kind of romantic attraction. Their supposed hatred that develops can only be observed by friends as oblivious, indirect flirting. It just takes them a while to realise that.Feat. annoyingly stifled feelings of attraction, relationship speculations from their friends and fans alike, both the boys being too proud to admit anything, and tons of sexual tension.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (In progress...)
> 
> \- Title from "Twice" by Catfish and the Bottlemen.

Their first meeting was nothing like the explosion of chemistry that their later relationship would suggest; no eyes glancing up from wide-brimmed tea cups in a cafe, no falling over on top of each other as strangers in the Christmas snow, no gentle brush of fingers against an arm in a tight squeeze through a doorway.  
  
On the contrary, it all began with a string of expletives from a loud-mouthed and slightly tipsy Dan directed towards an unassuming and clumsy Phil who had just spilled his fruity cocktail all over the taller man’s lap in a bar that he really didn’t want to be in.  
  
Phil enjoyed Playlist Live when it involved meeting his viewers, not meeting sweaty bodies and alcohol-induced idiots at the parties afterwards. He was always roped in by PJ or another one of his more social friends to go to some bar with a bunch of other Youtubers, and Phil was simply too polite to ever say no.  
  
PJ was lovely, of course, and always made an effort to keep a usually uncomfortable Phil by his side throughout these nights of horror, but at this particular one, Phil had lost his friend.  
  
A quick dart into the toilets was apparently enough to loose PJ’s head of wavy hair in the crowd, and Phil’s hands became clammy as he became aware of the fact that he had no idea what to do in a situation like this.  
  
He wandered to the bar, bought himself another drink, turned around in a daze of awkwardness, and collided into a tall, black-clad man, sloshing drink all over the victim of his clumsiness.  
  
“Mate, really?” The man said, looking down in frustration at the beginnings of a stain all over his skinny jeans.  
  
As Phil began profusely apologising, he took in the sight of the lowered head, noting the unruly strands of wavy hair that peaked through the straightened ones, presumably due to the beads of perspiration lining the man’s upper forehead.  
  
When the man looked up, face still crumpled into a frown and muttering “just what I fucking needed,” Phil was greeted with the gentle features of a softly sloped nose, rounded cheekbones and deeply cratered dimples piercing either side of rosy lips. If it weren’t for the horridness of the situation, or this man’s expression of clear disdain, Phil may have even considered him attractive.  
  
He decided resolutely against that train of thought when the smell of alcohol lingered from the breath of the man as he looked Phil in the eye and said a sarcastic “cheers, mate,” before disappearing into the crowd of people. Phil was left feeling horrible for what he’d somehow managed to do, but simultaneously peeved at the rude, attractive, tipsy man.  
  
It wasn’t until later in the night when Phil reunited with PJ and described the story that he was told who the man was.  
  
“Oh, I think you’re describing Dan. That’s weird,” PJ said, nursing a beer in one hand, “I would’ve thought you two would get along perfectly.”  
  


* * *

  
  
It wasn’t that Dan was a dickhead. It’s just that at the times he was perceived as one, it was usually the result of a social facade he had put up in situations he found uncomfortable. His way of dealing with his minor social anxiety was to position himself as the more ‘superior’ one, rather than the more relaxed, softly spoken homebody he usually was.  
  
He also wasn’t an avid drinker. He gave into the act when surrounded by other friends who found fun in guzzling down drinks. He thought it was alright - nothing too special - and preferred not to participate.  
  
The after party that Marcus had invited him to, however, was the perfect conglomeration of unsettling pounding lights and music and the claustrophobic surrounding of outgoing and boisterous people for which Dan to respond by simulating a social facade of indifference to those around him. Some lad-speaking and occasional shots here and there were fine in the name of ‘fitting in’ for one night.  
  
By around the second hour, after submitting to an awkward display of dance moves with friends and slurred shouting over music about the controversy of pineapple pizza, a tipsy Dan had had enough of the party setting and was ready to just get a ride to his hotel and crash after a long day at Playlist Live.  
  
After calling a half-hearted goodbye to his group of friends and heading towards the exit, he walked past the bar only to have some asshat back into him with his drink and subsequently spill it all over his jeans.  
  
At this point Dan was tired and snappy and fed up, and his usual politeness towards new people was overcome with frustration. Later that night while in bed, sobriety catching up to him though the haze of fading tipsiness, he would feel bad about the sarcasm he directed towards the dark haired man. He was wearing a plaid shirt, Dan remembered, and had fair skin, accentuating the pop of his greenish-blueish eyes. They were almost puppy-dog-like, the way they widened at seeing the mess inflicted upon Dan. There was something about him that even through the layers of built of indifference he had constructed throughout the night, Dan could perceive to be magnetising.  
  
Sleep overtook Dan and in the morning his stained jeans thrown on the floor were a reminder of the man, who was simply another idiot that contributed to his unenjoyable night.

**Author's Note:**

> This will only be a short little chaptered thing! Hopefully I'll have the next part up soon :) Leave a comment and let me know what you think so far <3


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